


Storms

by Moreena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Old Writing, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7891156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moreena/pseuds/Moreena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thunder storm rages, waking an occupant of the castle.  Nightmares plaguing them, they seek comfort of their lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storms

**Author's Note:**

> Old work, circa 2010. Non-Deathly Hallows compliant! Snape lives!

There was a sharp crack, accompanied by a brilliant flash of light. Seconds after was a long crash of thunder that seemed to shake the entire castle. Most of the students and teachers slept on through the noise. Some were even comforted by the noise and settled into an even deeper sleep. But that was not the case of one boy high up in a tower. At the first peal of thunder, he sat up straight in his bed, his chest heaving. Storms always scared him, and he brought his hand up, placing it over his pounding heart, hoping the action would keep the organ in his chest. His fellow seventh years slept on, oblivious to the distress of the hero of the Wizarding World.

Storms brought on the painful memories he always struggled to keep down. The endless battles between the light and dark. The countless frivolous deaths on both sides of the war. It was all too painful for a mere seventeen year old. Harry struggled to breathe, to fill his lungs with enough air to keep his brain from shutting down. It wasn't working as well as he'd hoped. In a fit of panic, he thrust his head down between his knees, forcing his airway to open, sucking in huge gulps of air.

The windows were open, sending in splatters of rain along with gusts of cold air. His bed curtains fluttered in the breeze, and the cold air he inhaled seemed to slow his breathing, helped him calm down just enough for coherent thought. He knew what he needed. The forbidden passion he could only find down in the darkest depths of the castle. But was it there, tonight? Right now? Would it be willing to embrace him if he showed up in the middle of the night?

He wouldn't know until he tried, and he was a Gryffindor through and through. He would live up to the qualities of his house! Quietly, he slid down to the end of his bed and opened his trunk, rummaging around inside of its depths for a moment. Coming out with a worn piece of parchment, he illuminated the his wand before tapping the parchment and whispering “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Harry was always fascinated when the map was activated. The way that the ink slowly spread out from the corner of the map, made perfect lines. He held his breath, watching as the castle appeared, every hallway, every room a perfect render, just in miniature size. Once the last lines had connected, the second thing happened. All over the paper, lots of little splotches appeared, writing curled over each dot. Most of the dots were stationary, their names overlapping on the page since the dorms weren't that big. The few that were roaming the halls were ghosts and teachers, out trying to catch students breaking curfew. He scanned each of the halls, the one name he was desperately looking for not among the halls.

Next, he moved his eyes to the area of the castle where he knew his lover would be. He wasn't in his classroom working, nor was he in his personal quarters. No, his lover was sitting in his office, still awake despite the late hour. Harry wondered what he was doing, if he would have time for him. Again, there was only one way to know. So he slipped out of his bed silently and opened the lid on his trunk again, digging in it for a moment before coming up with the softness of his cloak. Tapping his wand to the parchment again, he whispered “Mischief managed.” The map was wiped clean, and he dropped the paper back into his trunk.

The next step was crucial. He snagged his book bag from under his bed, slinging it over his shoulder. He could claim that he'd awoken early and gone off to study. This was only on the off chance that his lover let him spend the night with him. Most of the time, he was denied the privilege and was sent back to his dorm just before morning. Another crash of thunder sounded, and he jumped, his chest tightening in fear once again. His breathing grew faster, and he began to panic, his pupils dilating to wide black spots.

'Breathe!' he commanded his body silently. He slowly drew in a tiny amount of breath, just as his lungs and brain clamored for air. The small breath set him back in motion, and his breathing deepened by increments.

Walking the halls at night was always an adventure in stealth and cunning. He couldn't be caught, because he'd just be sent back to bed. And he couldn't sleep alone tonight. The screams, the vivid colors from the fight, it was all too real, right behind his eyelids. So he was silent as he wandered the halls, staying close to the walls and watching for teachers with hawk-like eyes. The stairs down into the dungeons were under his feet before he realized it. Slowly he made his way down, the torches in the walls the only light

Harry found himself relaxing. The sounds of thunder were muted here, not the loud crashes that they had been up in his room. The door was before him, and he raised his fist, knocked once. He held his breath. He could feel his professor cursing another interruption, snarling at whoever it was that it had better be important. The door flew open and Professor Severus Snape stood in the doorway, black robes billowing around his body like they always did. In years past, Harry had been frightened of the man. But those days of childhood were over, thanks to Voldermort.

“What do you want?” Snap snarled as he opened the door. 

He had expected the headmaster, or Filch, or another teacher. Not the empty void he currently faced. He was puzzled, and more annoyed now. Someone was playing a prank on him, and he didn't like it. With a turn, Snape began to inspect his door, waving his wand in front of it, muttering several spells to make certain that it wasn't some student playing a trick with some sort of Weasley device. There was a tug on his robe, and his face softened, just a little. Not enough to betray the happiness he felt. But he knew.

“Hurry up Potter. I won't leave my door open for all manner of things to enter,” he said, moving to one side of the doorway, giving the boy just enough time to scamper through before he closed the door with a heavy thud.

Once sealed and magically locked, Harry shed his cloak and stood before his professor, his book bag slung over his chest. Harry was dressed in Muggle clothes, grateful that it was Saturday, so he could get away with wearing it around the castle. His jeans were a perfect mix of tight and baggy, hugging his hips instead of falling off like his clothes had done in years past, thanks to the kindness of Molly Weasley. The shirt was plain white, fitting a little looser around his chest to maximize comfort and movement.

“Thanks for letting me come in.”

“There's no reason why I should deny someone entrance. However, I still hold the power to refuse help. Why are you out and about at this hour, and in this weather?”

Snape knew it was a foolhardy question. He and Potter shared things, and he knew. Snape knew the nightmares that the storms brought. While he was lucky enough to avoid that particular ghost, he knew how deeply it affected Potter. Seeing so much loss in bright flashes of light, sounds of banging, people screaming as they fought and died. In the psyche of any seventeen year old, it would leave its scars.

“You know why I'm here Professor,” Harry replied softly.

Outside, the storm reached its crescendo, a long booming clap of thunder vibrating and shaking the entire castle, the sound not even dampened in the dungeons. Harry jumped, his chest constricting as he tried to breathe. He could hear it... See everyone running pell mell. Jets of lights flying from wands, bouncing off stones and people. That damned cackle as Voldermort watched everything, thinking himself invincible.

There was an arm around his chest, pinning his arms to his body while another hand forced his head down, forced him to open his airway and breathe. His mouth opened, drawing in a ragged breath that burned down his throat and seemed to shred his lungs. But he inhaled another, and another. Gradually the hands holding him loosen their grip, and he can feel his arms, can feel the safety of Snape's grip as if it's a tangible bubble he could see.

“I'm sorry Severus. I didn't...”

“Hush. I know what nights like tonight bring for you. How many storms has the castle withstood, and with each one, you inevitably find your way down here to my rooms and my arms. I do not begrudge you for it Harry.”

“I know. I'm always grateful that you do Severus. I know it can be hard, dealing with me when I'm like this.”

“This is no more difficult than dealing with your potions class for me, though there are much better rewards for my services on these nights, than what I get after classes.”

Severus said it with such conviction, the malice he still obviously held for innate children written across his face. But it has Harry laughing, forgetting the storm outside. That alone was enough to bring a ghost of a smile to the face of the potion master.

“Regardless of any benefits you receive, it's still a relief to have someone to come to.”

“You do realize that there is a plethora of teachers that you could turn to on these nights. Any of them would be happy to sit with you.”

“But only you know exactly how I feel. You know my pain. And you've also the best course to get me back to sleep.”

“I knew you only used me Potter. Only pretending to enjoy time with me on abysmal nights. You use me for your own benefit,” Snape replied tartly, his conviction undermined by the simple fact that he still held Harry close, was still prepared to hold his head down to make him breathe if he had to.

“I may use you, but you're the one who continually allows me to use him,” Harry replied with a smirk.

“Cheeky brat.”

Harry let out a little laugh, finally allowing himself to fully relax. They played with witty banter for as long as necessary, until one of them gave in. Now... Now he could fully relax and wait out the storm. One of his arms moved up slowly, hooking around Snape's waist and holding onto him just enough.

“Did you wish to sleep here tonight?”

“You'd let me?”

Harry was beside himself, too stunned at the moment. The thing he'd always wanted... it was being given to him without his even having to ask. His world seemed to narrow down to a single point, as he lost himself in a fantasy. His silence stretched out and Severus wondered if he'd made the right decision by asking the boy.

“Well if you don't want to, you'd best get back up to your dorm room before someone notices that you're missing. Wouldn't be good for the savior to not be in his bed come the morning,” he spat out.

He didn't know what he'd been thinking when he'd offered to let Potter stay. Some deep seated emotion he told himself he didn't have had come up with the ludicrous notion. That was all it was. He didn't really want to spend the night with his lover wrapped around him, smelling like outdoors and musk. He didn't want to watch Harry's face as his eyes slid open for the first time in the morning and stared at him hard in order to focus on his face without those glasses on.

Severus Snape did not want Harry bloody Potter spending the night in his chambers.

With that thought, the gentle grip he had on the boy slid away and his hands came up, folding under each other across his chest. He expected Harry's head to be hung in shame, his tail tucked between his legs before he either apologized and begged to stay, or turned and ran. He did not expect to be met with bright green eyes and a rather large grin.

“You know every time I come here I always want to spend the night. You've never let me before... I was shocked. You really think I'd pass up an opportunity like that? You're inhaling too many potion fumes made by students.”

“Well my profession requires me to do such a thing Potter. I cannot help it if they don't know how to brew adequately. I must suffer and I make certain they suffer as well.”

Harry shook his head with a laugh and settled his book bag on the floor, stuffing his cloak inside of it so he wouldn't lose it. He was rather giddy now. His excitement danced along the surface of his body, was so easy to see in so many places. The way he shifted from foot to foot, the excited trembling of his hands. The light in his eyes that Severus had come to know and bask in so often. Severus licked his lips and straightened his robes. It was going to be a late night, he could feel it now.

“Into the bedroom, Mister Potter,” he snapped, eloquent voice holding no trace of the steadily building arousal in his body.

Harry scampered to obey, ducking through the secret door disguised as a bookcase, feeling Severus walking through behind it, closing and locking the door with a spell. They didn't have to worry about silencing charms, since the room had been built with them. It was the one thing Harry was grateful for, because sometimes they were too rushed in their passion to remember something as... Simple as a charm.

“Eager, aren't we Harry?” Snape asked, a smirk etched into his face as he observed his lover.

Harry blushed at the question, turning to face his lover, weight shifting as he struggled to stay calm, to wait for instruction. His tongue darted out to moisten his own lips, and it was the catalyst that Snape needed.

“Strip yourself and climb onto the bed,” he commanded.

When he used that voice... Harry always came undone. It was the command tinged with need. That voice held the thread of promise that as long as you complied... There would be nothing but generous amounts of pleasure to be had. His fingers grazed along the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it up and off, setting it on the back of a near-by chair. He could feel those nearly black eyes digging into his flesh, admiring every inch of him. It excited Harry to no end. To know that his lover admired him in such a way; that he would hungrily gaze at him... Harry shivered with a fresh wave of arousal. Hands went to his jeans and popped the button before lowering the zipper. He hissed in relief, the metal digging into his cock was uncomfortable. He began to lower the denim and Severus gasped. Harry could only smile with a mock innocence. 

“Walking around like that Mr. Potter. You were expecting to at least get something out of me. That much is obvious.”

Harry answered with nothing more but a smirk, dropping the jeans to the floor, the absence of any underwear causing Severus' arousal to hitch a level. He bloody knew what that did to him. The damned boy knew exactly what made the older man's blood boil. And of course, he used it in the best ways, to get exactly what he wanted. The lithe body clambered onto the bed, and Snape stopped thinking. 

Instead, he feasted. He allowed his eyes to wander over the miles of bared flesh. From the mop of messy black hair and those vibrant green eyes.. The full lips set just above a strong jaw... Down a thin but easily accessible neck... Across a well defined chest, with pert nipples that begged to be teased until the owner of said nipples was begging for the torment to cease. Down a flat abdomen, across jutting hipbones, to the apex of strong thighs, topped off by a patch of dark curls and a long slender cock. A cock that was more than hard, tip leaking fluid for him, the opalescent droplets oozing from the slit atop his shaft. Snape stopped there. He was too far gone with his need, too far into the subspace that only Harry Potter could send him.

“Please Severus. Please please...”

That sweet melodious voice was begging him, calling out to him to take what he was more than willing to give. Severus answered it, moved to him like moth to a flame, shedding his robes and the clothing underneath with a quickened ease. He wanted nothing more than to take what was offered, what had been given freely to him by the one person in the world that seemed to understand him for who he was.

“Put a pillow under your hips and lay down,” Severus rasped out, selecting a jar of oil off of a shelf, moving closer to the bed, watching as Harry scrambled to comply, shoving a pillow between his groin and the bed, which raised his ass just enough.

“Severus... Don't make me wait, please,” Harry cried out, body trembling from both intense pleasure and fear as another wave of thunder sounded out over the castle.

“Harry... I won't make you wait,” Severus responded, knees dipping into the bed as he moved to straddle his lover, their heat touching, chasing away the perpetual cold of the dungeon.

And Severus was true to his promise. He didn't make his lover wait. Fingers slick with oil penetrated parted cheeks, as Harry's fingers went white with the effort of holding his body open. Each plunge inside of Severus' elongated fingers brushed against that magical spot inside of him, had him writhing, hips thrusting against the pillow. But those slim, beautiful hands that he loved so much were tormenting him. The empty hand was squeezing the base of his cock, forming a tight ring that Harry couldn't bypass, couldn't work around. His orgasm was restricted, even as Severus continued to torture him, adding another finger to the two already stretching him.

Harry was sobbing, begging for release, for penetration, anything. In that moment, he would have given Severus anything the older wizard had asked for. Severus was a giving man. He relented, slicking his cock with oil, slipping between Harry's legs and rubbing the tip of his cock against the puckered hole. He pressed forward, tip slipping inside. His hands moved to take Harry's, pulling them away from his body. Severus drew their joined hands upward, pinning them by Harry's head, fingers interlaced.

Together, they moved. Severus pushed forward while Harry slid back. They held hands, allowed their bodies to do the talking, to join them together. Cries of passion and thankfulness filled the chamber, both of their bodies finally attaining what they wanted. Harry sobbed into the blankets, hips rocking back and forth, feeling pleasure from the cock buried so deep inside of him, to his own shaft rubbing against the silk pillow beneath his hips.

Neither of them could last long. Their mutual pleasure had been too long ago. Their lives were too interspersed with other things, other emotions, needs, and demands. But together... They complimented one another. Harry pushed where Severus pulled. They thrust against one another, grinding; giving and taking. Together, hand joined, Severus and Harry found their release. The slap of skin against skin, sweat slicked bodies locked in the oldest form of embrace known to man. Harry succumbed first, Severus' body and the silk pillow proving too much for teenage hormones. He came with a loud, inarticulate cry, his cock emptying itself against the pillow as his body shuddered and convulsed around Severus. Severus tightened his jaw, grit his teeth and struggled to last. In and out he thrust, lasting only a handful of moments before he buried himself deep inside, grunting his release into Harry's ear.

They came down off of their high, panting and gasping for breath. Severus turned them, pulling them away from the pillow and discarding the ruined bedding to the floor, drew Harry into his arms. No words were needed, as they basked in the presence of the other. Harry clung to Severus, loathe to fall asleep in case he would be awakened hours later by the gruff voice of his lover throwing him out of his rooms. But he recalled Severus' promise, and it made him smile. Harry clung to the arm thrown over his body, even as the blankets shifted up to cover them and the lights dimmed. He was so close to sleep... Just a little more...

“Love you Severus,” he whispered, now too exhausted to stay awake. The words barely escaped his lips before he was asleep, all worries forgotten.

Severus shifted to look down at him, shaking his head with a barely there smile across his lips. It was worth it. The threat of being caught. It was worth it to see Harry sleeping peacefully, while the storm above raged on, thunder shaking the walls. Seeing Harry finally happy... It was more than enough for Severus to surpass the storm brought on by mother nature. Harry happy was what nature wanted, and Severus would always do whatever was in his power to make it happen. That was how he told Harry he loved him. Not with words, but with actions that spoke louder than hours of conversation.


End file.
